#bucky barnes prompts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jen-with-a-pen · 11 months ago

Text

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is.

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter– to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day.

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week.

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together.

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door.

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger.

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder.

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit.

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip.

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing.

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink.

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it.

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time.

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell.

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear.

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below.

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost.

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape.

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully.

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium.

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form.

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.”

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan.

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear.

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours.

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.”

You wanted to take his finger and break it.

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.”

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion.

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance.

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles.

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously.

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side.

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?”

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward.

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard.

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body.

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!”

“No! Fuck– Get off me!”

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.”

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone.

“Is that all, Sergeant?”

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.”

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged.

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you.

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.”

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why.

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame.

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door.

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy.

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however.

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?”

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release.

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core.

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs.

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass.

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.”

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him.

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure.

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you.

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!”

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you.

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode.

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile.

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

1K notes · View notes

becca-e-barnes · 2 years ago

Note

all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.

Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing 🙈

But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.

"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."

His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.

"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"

He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."

Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.

"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.

"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.

He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.

"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.

You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.

He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.

Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.

He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.

It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.

#asks answered <3 #becca writes spice #anon #needy!bucky #bucky barnes x reader smut #sub!bucky #bucky barnes smut #subby!bucky #this should technically belong to the shs series #but it fit this prompt too well so I'm using it here #I make the rules 😇#but that 'thank you' nearly killed me #I've noticed this week that my beige flag is that I get so frustrated when people make assumptions about my capacity #I hate when people say stuff like 'how's the new job? you must be really stressed'#or worse 'things must be getting on top of you'#like ???#why would you assume I can't handle what I put on my own plate?#I know people mean well but it really bothers me

3K notes · View notes

marvelstoriesepic · 1 month ago

Text

Whumpcember (day 5)

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Prompt: Concussion

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Reader gets concussed; worried!Bucky

Author’s note: This is my first fic for this year’s Whumpcember writing challenge. Hope you guys enjoy this! Thank you for the support after my October writing challenges that motivated me enough to do something like this again!! ♡

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

“Y/n, I’m serious. This is a bad idea.”

“Stop lecturing me, Nat, I’ve got this!”

“You’re two seconds away from breaking your neck. Not to mention ruining my night.”

“I am deeply flattered by your concern,” you tease, shooting her a sideways grin as you shift your weight on the ladder beneath your feet that groans faintly. “But you could have a little faith in me, you know.”

You tug another section of the Christmas lights in your hand loose, readying to hang them up. One foot wobbles slightly as you reach up and you balance yourself out on the uneven ground.

Natasha’s voice drops into that icy, lethal calm you’ve seen her use right before someone gets their ass handed to them. “Alright. If you don’t get your ass down that ladder in two seconds-”

You interrupt her with a huff, rolling your eyes as they stay focused on securing the lights. “Jokes on you, Romanoff - I’m probably the only person alive who isn’t scared of your threats.”

Natasha is leaning against the door to the balcony, arms crossed, her dark red hair catching the glow of the evening light. Her sharp eyes are locked on your form precariously balancing on the ladder.

She exhales sharply. Her brow quirks, but her jaw tightens. “You know, Barnes isn’t going to lose sleep if those lights don’t go up,” she states flatly, voice brimming with the no-nonsense tone you know all too well. “Actually, he won’t notice a damn thing. But what he will notice is you flat on your back in a hospital bed, wrapped in a cast because you couldn’t stay off a shaky ladder.”

She crosses her arms tighter and although she actually looks quite composed to you, you know she’s on edge. Her voice is firm.

You let out a frustrated huff, focusing on freeing another stubborn knot in the string. The December air makes your fingertips tingle. You shudder slightly at a harsh and cold gust of wind, swaying just a little to the left and gripping the balcony edge to steady yourself.

You twirl the string of lights dramatically, then carefully secure the next hook.

“Relax, Nat. I’ll be done before he gets back. And then all he’s going to notice are these beautiful lights-” you grunt while reaching higher “- shining on the balcony. After all, he’s always complaining it’s too dark out here. So, problem solved.”

Natasha uncrosses her arms and takes a step forward, settling her hands on her hips now. Her expression hardens. “Well, he sure as hell couldn’t have expected you to risk your neck by fixing it. Barnes could hang those lights without the ladder, Y/n. Honestly, the man would jump to do this for you.”

You glance down at her shortly, still stubborn and confident, and wave a dismissive hand as you reach to hook another section. “Yeah, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if he did it himself.”

Her eyes narrow dangerously. “A trip to the ER isn’t worth your little holiday moment, Y/n.”

“There won’t be a trip to the ER-”

The jingling of keys at the front door pulls you out of your banter with Natasha, stopping your comment from reaching its end. It startles you enough that your hand freezes mid-motion, the lights tangled loosely in your grip. Your heart skips a beat.

Bucky is home.

The realization hits you as your body reacts - a tiny, involuntary jerk that throws off your already unsteady stance. The ladder sways beneath you. You sharply shift your weight, searching for solid footing, but your foot lands on empty air instead of the rung you expected.

Time seems to speed up and slow down all at once.

The ladder teeters violently, and before you can even process what’s happening, gravity yanks you downward.

A split second of panic floods your chest. A startled shriek tears from your throat. The next thing you feel is the sharp and immediate pain blossoming at the back of your head, as it connects with the hard wall of your apartment. The impact sends stars bursting across your vision.

The world spins briefly, but before the ground can meet you, Natasha’s arms wrap around you, keeping you from crumpling onto the floor and perhaps landing wrong.

“Damn it, Y/n!” Natasha’s voice is almost harsh but she gently lowers you to the ground. Her face is close to yours, her green eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and concern.

“Y/n?”

The shout echoes from inside the apartment, strong and tinged with alarm.

Bucky’s voice barely reaches you through the throbbing in your head. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out everything except the pounding pain.

Your name comes again, louder this time, closer - close enough for the panic in his voice to reach your fuzzy mind. You wince.

The sound of hurried footsteps rings out against the floor. The balcony door flies open. Before you can get hold of what’s happening, Bucky is there.

He moves too quickly for your brain to fully process in your clouded state - one moment, he’s at the door across the room inside, and the next he’s crouched in front of you, his broad frame blocking out everything else.

His eyes rake over your face, your body, wide with worry. He’s scanning you like he’s trying to piece together exactly what happened.

“Y/n,” he says again, voice softer now, but not less urgent.

You can’t answer immediately. The pain in your head pulses severely, radiating outwards in waves. You wince as you reach back to touch the sore spot gingerly.

Bucky’s gaze darts upwards, undoubtedly looking at Natasha who is kneeling beside you, her arm steady around you. “What the hell happened?” he demands, voice dropping low.

“She fell off the damn ladder,” Natasha explains bluntly, nodding toward the object still standing behind you. “Hit her head on the wall on the way down. I caught her before it got worse.”

The pain flares again and you let out a soft groan.

Bucky’s jaw tightens and he looks like he’s holding back a string of curses. His hand moves, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a gentleness that feels almost out of place given the tension radiating off of him.

“You hit your head?” he asks quietly, softly. So soft indeed it’s like your mind floats on a cloud. You might as well just let it reach the sky. His thumb grazes your temple, again so soft, careful not to press anywhere that might hurt. “Where does it hurt? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Back,” is all you manage. It sounds hoarse. It doesn’t sound like your voice and you’re surprised for a second, blinking confused.

Bucky’s hand is still on your face, his body right in front of you. The sharp and tense exhale that falls from his lips reaches your cheeks. His other hand clenches into a fist before he forces it to relax. His knuckles remain white.

“You shouldn’t even have been up there. What were you thinking, mhm?” he says, voice thick and tight, though there is a glimmer of guilt.

“Lights,” you croak, wincing, wildly gesturing with your hand to the halfway-secured Christmas lights above.

“Why didn’t you wait? Would’a done that for you, doll.”

“Surprise.”

“Tried telling her that. Stubborn as they would come.”

Natasha and you talk at the same time.

You tried glaring at her but it was a rather weak attempt and Bucky’s hand restricts possible motions with your head to meet her eyes.

Bucky’s lips press into a thin line and he shakes his head as if trying to push away his frustration. He shifts even closer, eyes intently focused on yours. You can’t look at him for long. “Y/n,” he instructs softly but firmly, “I need you to tell me if you feel dizzy or if your vision’s blurry. Anything feels wrong, you say it. Got it?”

You manage a weak nod, though the motion sends another twinge of pain through your skull. “My head is pounding, but… no dizziness.”

His shoulders relax just a fraction but his hand doesn’t leave your face and he doesn’t stop assessing you with his eyes. His thumb brushes along your cheek tenderly. “Okay. We’ll get you inside. Ice pack, and then straight to the ER. A doc should check you over.”

You open your mouth but Bucky anticipates your protest. “No arguing,” he scolds stiffly, though there is a pleading undertone that shuts you up.

“Called it,” Natasha remarks dryly, shooting you a chastising glance. A hint of a smirk tugs at her lips, though her tone remains all business.

Bucky doesn’t smile. He doesn’t so much as blink at her comment. His eyes stay locked on yours, and the worry etched into his features doesn’t ease a bit. His brow is pinched, furrowed so tightly, it’s almost painful to look at but that could also just be your aching head.

Bucky and Natasha help you inside and immediately catch you and hold you firmly to their sides when you stumble slightly. Natasha grabs an ice pack at Bucky’s command. She knows better than to argue with him when it comes to you.

So she lets him half carry you to his car while she slips to the kitchen and gets a pack wrapped in a kitchen towel. She hands it to Bucky without a word.

Once you’re in the passenger seat, Bucky crouches beside you in the open door, carefully pressing the pack to the back of your head. The chill bites at your skin, making you flinch just a little. You bring your hands up to hold it there yourself.

After making sure you’re okay with this position and sitting comfortably and no other pains have come up, he climbs into the driver's seat.

His intensity doesn’t waver.

His grip on the steering wheel is tighter than it has to be - just shy of crushing - and his jaw works as he grinds his teeth, the muscles in his neck and shoulders visibly taut. You imagine stretching out your hand to the back of his neck and massaging the tender skin there. You blink away the thought. Surprised it even came up.

Bucky glances at you every few seconds and you feel Natasha’s gaze on you as well from the backseat. The silence in the car is heavy.

It’s almost unbearable and you hate seeing Bucky this rigid. You’re afraid he’s mad at you.

“Buck, it’s just a bump-”

You don’t get to finish your reassurance. His head snaps in your direction, eyes flashing with something unreadable. “It’s not just a bump, doll,” he cuts in adamantly, but behind the steel in his tone, there is the softness that always accompanies his voice when he talks to you. “You hit your head hard enough to almost black out for a second. That’s not something to shrug off.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the shake of Natasha’s head catches your peripheral vision and you drop it.

“Should have waited for you. M’ sorry,” you say silently, hands still holding that ice pack to your head.

Bucky lets out a long drawn sigh. Heavy. A hand moves over his face. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Can’t scare me like that, sweetheart. You hear me? I'll take care of those lights, yeah? You stay away from that ladder. Don’t wanna see you up there again.”

His tone is soothing. The gravel of his words again softened but the worry he carried since he found you concussed on the floor of your little balcony is still going strong. His hand - a little hesitantly - moves to rest on your thigh, his thumb swiping over the fabric of your trousers. The motion makes your heart stutter.

Your head feels foggy, like you’re floating just out of sync with the world. A faint, dumbly smile tugs at your lips, the pain in your scull muted for a moment by the softness in his eyes. You blink slowly, words tumbling out before you can think clearly about how you phrase your sentences to make them have a purpose.

“Wanted to surprise you,” you mumble, voice slightly slurred. Your head is spinning. Your words come slow. “You always say it’s too dark out there. And they are Christmasy. The lights. S’ nice.”

There is silence for a beat beat but then Bucky lets out a tiny huff of laughter. It’s more like a released breath but it makes your cheeks flush and your heart pick up all the same. You’re grinning again. You love the sound of his laugh. It’s the last thing you want to hear right before you die. It’s the only thing you want to hear for the rest of your life.

You blink again. Damn, your head really is messed up a little.

Bucky shakes his head slightly. He sighs again, deeply. A little strained. “That's sweet, Y/n,” he murmurs and he holds your eyes a moment longer. They are glinting with something. There is definitely fondness there but also something deeper. “And the lights look real nice, doll, but-”

“See?” you interrupt and throw a triumphant grin back at Natasha.

That earns you a full-fledged glare.

You turn back around.

“Still,” his voice drops again, returning solemn just like his expression as he looks back at the road ahead. “No surprises for a while, yeah? Let me handle things like that.”

There is a slight crack in his voice.

You blink at him again, trying to focus, but your muddled brain and the amount of his concern make it hard to form a coherent response. You only nod faintly. Thankfully, your head doesn’t hurt as bad at the movement anymore.

You might also imagine the knowing smirk pulling at Natasha’s lips in the backseat. She’s awfully silent behind you, eyes flicking between you and Bucky with a smugness in her expression. You pinch your brows together and try to figure out what this is about but your mind can’t seem to comprehend much at the moment.

“Hey.”

A gentle hand settles on your cheek. A thumb swipes over your skin. Warm. So warm.

“You still with me?”

His voice is soft. So soft.

“Yeah,” you mutter, the faintest smile tugging at your lips again.

Bucky’s hand makes sure the ice pack is still firmly pressed to the back of your head, every ounce of his focus split between the road and you.

Natasha keeps smirking.

#whumpcember24 #whumpcember2024 #Whumpcember day5 #whump writing #whump prompt #marvel bucky barnes #marvel mcu #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #roommate!bucky

203 notes · View notes

musette22 · 11 days ago

Text

Orpheus & Eurydice || Steve & Bucky

Moodboard for the @wintershieldbingo

Square: Mythology AU ✔️

I've always felt that the story of Steve and Bucky, particularly as told in Captain America: The First Avenger, had a lot in common with the Ancient Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. For that reason, I have chosen to fill the Mythology AU square on my Wintershield Bingo card by creating a moodboard to draw narrative and visuals parallels between these two tragic love stories.

Orpheus & Eurydice

Orpheus was an artist, the greatest lyre player in the world, who was happily married to the love of his life, the beautiful Eurydice. Their happy life together gets cut short, however, when Eurydice is bitten by a viper and dies, leaving a heartbroken Orpheus behind. Orpheus cannot accept his true love’s death, and so he travels to the Underworld on a quest to get Eurydice back.

Orpheus manages to overcome various hurdles, such as getting past Cerberus, the three-headed hound who guards the gates to the Underworld, and finally pleads with Hades, the king of the Underworld to let Eurydice live again. Hades allows this on one condition: Eurydice is to follow behind Orpheus while walking out of the darkness of the Underworld towards the light of the land of the living, but Orpheus should not turn to look at her before she is fully out in the light again. However, as they begin to ascend towards the land of the living, Orpheus, afraid that his lover is no longer behind him, looks back to make sure she is following, causing Eurydice to tragically fall back into the shadows and be trapped in the Underworld once more.

Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

Steve and Bucky are very close friends and most likely even lovers, who live a mostly happy life together in Brooklyn. When World War II breaks out, Bucky is drafted and joins the army, while Steve stays behind in New York. In Italy, Bucky's squad is taken by the enemy, and he is kept prisoner in a dark, abandoned factory housing the lab of Hydra (incidentally also a multi-headed beast from Greek mythology).

When Steve, who received a superserum which turned him into the world's greatest soldier (as well as an artist), eventually also joins the army and gets to Italy, he is told Bucky is most likely dead. Steve point blank refuses to accept that, and embarks on a one man rescue mission - a quest, if you will - to get Bucky back. Armed with a wooden shield, the shape of which bears a similarity to a lyre, overcomes numerous obstacles, fighting Hydra goons and even Red Skull, who looks like the devil incarnate. Steve manages to free Bucky and even jumps over what strongly resembles the fiery pits of hell to get to freedom, only to lose Bucky again a short while later, when Bucky tragically falls from a train and is subsumed once more into the Underworld, i.e. Hydra’s claws.

Aside from the many narrative parallels, many visual parallels also exist between depictions of Orpheus and Eurydice in classical art and various scenes and images in CA:TFA. The moodboard above attempts to illustrate these parallels and similarities.

154 notes · View notes

winterspiderpurrs · 5 months ago

Text

Okay but the thought of someone questioning WHY Peter's shirts are too big/oversized

" Oh. I kept my ex's shirts in the break up. Unless there is one they want back really bad. Otherwise I keep them. They are so comfy"

The Jealously that is felt is crazy.

#i know i had a prompty thing like this once #but i thought of it again and i just love the idea #writing prompt #winterspider #peter parker x bucky barnes #starker #spidershield #shieldspider #spideypool #spideytorch #winterspiderpurrs

379 notes · View notes

bullshittingmywaythroughlife · 1 year ago

Text

Person B: Dom or sub?

Person A: I guess Domino's, since I don't go to Subway that much. Don't see why you'd put them in the same category though

Person C: I'm gonna tell them

Person B: Don't you fucking dare

2K notes · View notes

ace-bucket · 9 months ago

Text

CATWS Anniversary Day 10 - Devotion

@catws-anniversary

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stevebucky #ca:tws #catws10 #marvel fanart #marvel #was stuck between naming this one after either the helicarrier or devotion prompts but i think devotion fits it a little better #tw blood #my art #bucky barnes fanart #steve rogers fanart #stevebucky fanart

441 notes · View notes

ronearoundblindly · 11 months ago

Text

A Casual Kiss

Bucky Barnes x reader, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024

It's just adorable fluff, really. No warnings. Divider by @cafekitsune WC 547

A lot has happened to Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes over his long life. He used to be a ladies’ man and a traditional sort of soldier. He used to have all his natural limbs. He used to take maybe a touch too much pride in his appearance. A lot has also changed.

Wars change people. Injuries change people. People simply change over time.

And Bucky Barnes has been around a long, long time.

You knew all this from the beginning, of course, because his whole tragic history had already been slashed across newspapers and television by the time you started work in the same building.

He started out cold, then he became reserved, and then he was cautious. You didn’t even know he knew your name until the day he—very formally and awkwardly—asked you out, and the relationship developed…predictably.

That’s the best word for it. Predictable.

There were a few dates before he hugged you goodnight. The next time, he kissed your cheek. The next, you got a chaste peck on the lips. So on and so forth.

Measured increments of intimacy.

It was predictable and still wonderful.

Bucky isn’t good with ‘easy-breezy’ anything, you see. He’s intense and considerate. He plans ahead and for all contingencies, and so you’re taken aback by this random passing in of your department leaving the conference room and Buck’s team coming in.

There’s plenty of people around. Normally, that means a kind smile, perhaps being asked to step aside for a moment so he can say hello and check on your day, maybe check on your plans for dinner, but today? Today is different.

He’s smiling alright, smiling wider and brighter than you’ve ever seen him on the job. His shoulders are relaxed and loose. He’s strutting right for you, and suddenly, like a choreographed dance move, he twists, kissed your forehead, and twists again, still walking but backwards now.

Bucky winks at you as his metal hand finishes a soft graze down your arm.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Love you, doll,” he whispers though at least half the room can probably hear.

It’s not as if no one knows at work. You’ve dated for months, and for that whole stretch, Bucky’s been a perfect gentleman, just very…not casual. This is new.

So why not make it even stranger?

Your boyfriend snaps his flesh fingers like he just remembered something, nearly skipping the couple of feet to your side.

“Hey, so, I know we were doing movie night, but Sam’s taking some folks out to the corner bar. His treat.”

You can’t help but snort.

“Oh? And let me guess. You—who is unable to get drunk—would like to make him pay for the multiple bottles of top-shelf liquor you can consume.”

Bucky waggles an eyebrow, and you’re stunned.

“Know me so well,” he coos, leaning in to plant one more solid smooch on your lips.

Your lipstick stains his mouth until Bucky’s tongue wipes it away.

“I’ll pick you up at your office.”

You’ve hardly controlled the flutter in your gut but now have a grin fighting to break free. All you can do is nod, heading for the exit, thinking:

People always change over time…and sometimes, change is for the better.

A/N: Yeah, so, absolutely no one requested this and I don't care because HE DESERVES THE KISSES.

James Mace and a kiss without motive ⬅️ ➡️ Jake Jensen and a kiss to distract

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #750+#bucky barnes fluff #valentine's day fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #valentine's day prompts

782 notes · View notes

mischievous-thunder · 5 months ago

Text

Is this the official pose of fighting for superhero couples? Is this also the official pose for trying to calm your feisty partner?

Is this how they reassure each other?

Is this how they protect the love of their life? Is this common amongst enhanced superhero soulmates?

2K notes · View notes

lostalioth · 3 months ago

Text

𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

→ premise: steve and bucky would follow you to the ends of the earth. one call of their names and they’re at your service. they’re obsessed, only problem is you aren’t theirs, not yet anyways.

→ pairing: roomates!stucky x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, body worship, love marks [hickies, bites, etc], nicknames [baby, sweetie, sweets], mention of cheating [not reader or the boys]

→ a/n: kinktober 01

Living with two grown men may seem like an odd arrangement, but when those men would go to the ends of the earth to make you comfortable it wasn’t so bad. You’ve been living with Steve and Bucky for almost 2 years and it was amazing. You didn’t understand why they were always so caring and attentive to you, not that you were complaining but it had led to fights with your boyfriend John. He accused you of cheating on him with one if not both of them multiple times. Though you repeatedly denied it and said they have never even laid a hand on you in that way.

Although unbeknownst to you was how many times late into the night with soft footsteps Steve would sneak into Bucky's room or vice versa. The both of them worked up over all the depraved and dirty images of you and your hands on them flashing in their heads as they tried to sleep. Soft kisses to muffle their desperate moans against the others lips, hips pressed up against one another. A hand each wrapped around the other man's cock fisting it trying to get the thoughts of you to quiet down in their heads. Them pulling apart slowly in the end with swollen lips, cum covered chests and the odd unfulfillment of both men secretly wishing you were squeezed between them.

In the middle of a particularly nasty fight with your boyfriend about the same topic he let his own infidelity slip, admitting he cheated on you.

“Well, I'm glad I cheated on you, it only makes us fair if you’re going around screwing and whoring yourself out for your roommates” His words replayed in your head even now as you sluggishly pushed your way inside your apartment.

The front door slamming shut and your muffled sniffles and cries have Steve and Bucky jumping up on their feet before you even make it fully inside.

”Hey hey sweetie what happened” Steve coos as he lightly tries wiping away your tears with the sleeve of his shirt though more and more just kept pouring from your eyes. Steve was to your right and Bucky to your left, they often crowarded your space but an odd comfort and sense of security came with it, especially now. In an attempt to explain you let out broken words cut off with cries and sniffles that sound like gibberish to the boys.

“Let's sit down, sweets okay?” Bucky questions softly and hesitantly as they both lead you with a hand hovering over your back towards the large couch In the living room. Nodding and dragging your feet you let them guide you, finally sitting and taking a moment to compose yourself. You steal a glance either side of you at your wonderful roommates, only making a larger pit grow in your stomach. You were upset but more than anything worried about their reactions.

With a deep breath in you finally start explaining what happened.

“John and I had a fight again… about the same thing as always him saying i had to be cheating on him with one of you, he even accused me of sleeping with both of you” you scoff softly recalling his vile tone with his accusation. Wordlessly you watch the boys exchange an unreadable glance at one another before they return their eyes to you. “What about this fight made you cry?” Steve questions. You hadn't cried ever after a fight about this with him, only complained. They watched as tears brimmed in your eyes again, Steve's hands were fidgeting in his lap, itching to touch you. He wanted to comfort you but it felt wrong to touch you when talking about you fighting with your boyfriend specially over them. Bucky silently mulling over the information encouraging you to go on with a soft nod, while also trying to refrain from touching you no matter how bad he felt the urge to.

“And he blurted out how he's glad he also cheated on me so that makes us fair..” your tears finally spill over and hit your thighs soaking your jeans a bit as you put your head down, bracing yourself for their reactions mostly Buckys. He was known to be a little hot headed especially when it came to you being hurt. You can feel both men fuming each side of you, Steve suddenly now reaching out and rubbing up and down your thigh. Pushing away his anger at your boyfriend as much as he can, he pushes your face up softly with his fingers so you look at him. “He doesnt deserve you if that's the way he thinks” you could hear the hatred for the man behind Steve's words though he tried to hide it.

“Oh he’s a fuckin’ dead man” Bucky fumes and in a flash is up off the couch, fists balled at his sides ready to wring your boyfriends neck. Lunging forward across Steve's lap to grab Bucky's hand and stop his stampede you pull at him so he looks at you. “No please dont, just stay here with me.. we broke up anyway” your voice comes out soft and a bit wobbly still near the end as it was full of desperation. Though the emotion was mostly for the fact you wanted to just be comforted by them both. You miss the way their eyes light up and glance at each other when the words ‘break up’ register in their heads. When Bucky still hasn't moved though now it's more from shock you turn your head to face Steve. You hadn't realized how close your faces were but give him a pleading look with your eyes asking for his help.

Both of the boys feel as though their hearts are gonna burst out of their chests and they’d be okay with it if they died like this. Your soft hand in Bucky’s pulling him still towards you, fingers slowly intertwining with his rough ones. The warmth from your hand seeping into his usually cold one. Your body draped across Steve's lap and your face inches away from his, your eyes glued to his. The smell of your perfume surrounding him, the scent making his head go foggy.

The blonde shallows thickly before finally finding his voice, “You want us both to stay and comfort you?” He questions and even tests the waters by letting his hand drift to your lower back. You nod in the direction of both of them, watching slowly as Bucky's tense shoulders relax and he turns his body to face you.

Moving slowly as if he were trying not to spook you like a deer, he bends down and softly grabs ahold of your face so you're looking right in his eyes.

“He didn’t fucking deserve you never did, not like we do..” Bucky's anger was still clearly a bit prevalent, he couldn’t believe the asshole would cheat when he had you. He didn’t mean to slip up at the end, yet there was the underlying satisfaction of the fact that you were nearly all theirs now.

You thought your heart was gonna beat out of your chest now and Steve was ready to smack his roommate upside the head for letting both their feelings for you come out. “What buck meant to say-” you cut him off in the middle. “Show me what I deserve..” you say with determination while looking into bucky's eyes though it’s aimed equally at both men. They’re both frozen for a moment looking at you in shock, if this was some weird shared wet dream they don't ever wanna wake up. After a grumbled ‘fuck it’ leaving the brunette’s mouth breaks the silence, he surges forward crashing his lips against yours. A squeal leaving your mouth morphs into a soft hum of appreciation. Heat floods your whole body and down your core at the prolonged intense kiss.

You’ve never been kissed with this much love and excitement in your life, it sends your head spinning when you pull away. A smirk blooms on his face as he takes in both yours and Steve's love-struck and frozen expressions. Taking the reins, Bucky softly moves your face over to face your roommate once again and takes one hand off your face to plant on the back of the other man's neck. “How about you give Stevie some lovin’ huh baby?” He directed softly only making your head spin more and giving Steve flashbacks of Buck guiding him on how to please him. You could feel him getting hard under you as your body was still pressed against his lap, the feeling giving you a confidence boost. That coupled with a small nudge from the brunette's hands on the both of you, your lips crash together.

The feeling snapping Steve out of his frozen state as he lets out a choked whine, kissing you felt better than he could've ever imagined and he had multiple nights. Grabbing a hold of your body he lifts you up and onto his lap, only breaking the kiss for a second. His lips return to yours as his hands now finally allowed to roam your body. Running up and down your thighs, pushing up at the bottom of your shirt, rubbing down your back. “We’ll show you just how much you deserve to be appreciated sweetie, gladly” he groans against your lips.

“Please~” you whine into the kiss and lightly grind your hips against his. You hadn't noticed Bucky's hands leaving your body until they returned rubbing at your neck and down your arms as he was moving to sit on the coffee table in front of the couch, your back facing him. His knee slots under you and between the other man's thighs, supporting your body on their legs. His hands help Steve’s along in removing your shirt, kissing down your spine softly. “Wanna mark you up so bad sweets make you ours, shoulda always been ours” Buck mouths against your back and sucks leaving a trail of hickies down your spine as he runs his hands down your thighs and over the blondes wasit.

You pull away from the kiss, your eyes glazing over in lust as you take in Steve's swollen lips and flushed face. “Mark me please, more both of you” you whine out greedily as Bucky grabs onto your chin manipulating your face so your head is turned to face him and kisses you feverishly again. The boys work in perfect tandem and sync to strip you of your pants as well as maneuver around so now you are on your back pressed against the soft suddenly not nearly large enough couch and Steve is nestled between your thighs. Bucky is crouched down by your face and chest next to the couch.

Steve hands have a bruising grip on your hips as he lifts them so your legs are propped up on his muscular thighs. “God he’s such an idiot, how could he cheat when he had all this? Huh? God we wanted you so bad baby you have no idea” he rambles out as his hands worship and rub at your hips and thighs and even down your legs. “Wanted to feel these hips and thighs wrapped around my head so bad, thought about it every night fuck” he groans. “We both thought such dirty things about our pretty little roomate baby” Buck chimes in from beside you.

You were certain your panties were ruined by now, soaked with your slick, your clit throbbing in desperation for even just one of them to give attention to it. Your hips buck up in response to his words and his hands. Bucky’s hands were palming at your tits and rubbing your arms as he marked up your neck and chest. Reaching under you he unclasps your bra, pulling the one strap down to reveal your breast closest to him, he starts to lick and suck on your nipple. “Fantasized about these fuckin’ pretty tits in my face as you’d ride me sweets” he moans agianst your chest as his one hand gropes the neglected tit. “Mmm fuck~” you gasp out in response to their words and when steve bites down on the plush and senstive skin of your inner thigh. You were almost entirely naked and their large heater bodies pressed against your exposed skin fought off any type of breeze in the room. Your body felt on fire, from the two sets of roaming hands and the two desperate mouths marking and exploring your body, worshiping every inch. Whines and moans coming from all three of you filled the apartment.

By now there was hardly any un-bruised skin, hickies littered your chest and back from Bucky, bite marks and hickies covered your stomach and thighs from Steve and you swore you had fingertip sized bruises from their grip on you. They didn't wanna let go, they held onto you the whole time both too afraid that if they did the moment would end. The boys wanted to spend hours like this if you'd let them.

You were theirs now whether you really knew it or not and they were never gonna stop showing you the appreciation you deserve and they were far from done.

→ a/n: happy first day of kinktober my loves!! this one got away from me a bit, not every day will be over 1,000 words but this one was lol. also sorry to any johns i just picked a random name lol. this also was not proofread to well as i rushed to get it up.

1K notes · View notes

goodgirlofglory · 2 years ago

Note

Now that I know your requests are open, BE READY TO RECEIVE SOME TOE CURLING ASKS!!!

Like for example, I’m desperate for overstimulated Bucky 😩 like we all know Bucky can’t get enough of his girl, to the point where she’s gone dumb, but there’s something about tying up a big strong metal armed super soldier and making him cum over and over and over while he’s begging (he doesn’t know what he’s begging for, you to continue or stop like ✋)

Emphasis on the tying him up and sucking his soul out of his body, with your own body.

But you know, this was just a suggestion 🫶🫶keep up the great work!! 🌸🌸🌸🌸

Girl🥵

That is so fucking hot i can’t even, got me like😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫🫠🫠🫠✋️✋️✋️💦💦💦

Okay so I immediately sat down and started writing after reading this. Overstim is honestly one of my favorite things. Let's hope i did it justice🙏🙏🙏

Big boy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2,3k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral (f and m recieving), handjob, slightly severe overstimulation, messy creampie, messy, filthy fluids everywhere, bondage, slight d/s vibes(with sweet, subby, needy Bucky), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk

Summary: see the lovely prompt above💗

Note: the gif is cocky Bucky before he knew what he’d gotten himself into😏

“Keep your eyes on it,” you said, your voice drifting in through the cotton like muffle over Bucky’s hearing. He blinked the blur from his eyesight and heaved for breath, wave after wave of syrupy pleasure tinged with overexertion lining his lungs and loins like the finest lace.

Looking down his body, covered in sweat and twitching sporadically, he watched helplessly as you bent forward, sliding your pussy slowly off his cock. It made an obscenely wet noise as it slapped back onto his stomach, adding more wetness to the drenched patch of hair below his navel. From your position astride his hips facing away from him, he had an unobstructed view of the utter mess between your legs, your red and swollen pussy gaping slightly below your puckered asshole, the sight sending off small fireworks off undiluted, heady arousal in Bucky’s head.

You moaned softly and a moment later Bucky answered with a downright helpless mewl as his cum, pearly white and thick, began to drip out of your pussy. His whole body jolted, his cock jerking in a feeble attempt at rising. You knew what that exact sight did to him, how it chafed at some primal being inside him, how desperate it made him to pounce on you and pin you down, to cover you in his body and nuzzle your neck, to imprint himself on you and in you until he was ingrained in your very being.

His arms jerked, but even his vibranium arm was powerless against the restraints you’d so cleverly acquired. He’d been so cocky when you’d asked to tie him up in the bedroom, all overinflated male pride and confidence in the fact that few bindings could keep his strength leashed. He’d grown hard in his pants and happily relaxed onto his back in your bed, head rested on the mountain of soft pillows. His arrogance had turned on a dime once you seemingly out of nowhere whipped out a pair of vibranium handcuffs and proceeded to fasten his wrists to bolts drilled into the very concrete of the wall behind the bed. Bucky had only realized his mistake once you’d secured his vibranium arm and leaned back with a grin filled with so much wicked glee he’d actually gulped. A few, increasingly earnest tugs on his bonds had solidified it. He was indeed completely at your mercy. Not helping at all, his cock had grown even harder at the realization.

Now, god knew how many orgasms later, he could hear his blood pumping thick and slow in his ears, saturated with pleasure so intense and drawn out it sizzled in every nerve until the point of numbness, and watched helplessly as you elegantly turned around on the mattress and leaned forward between his legs, your eyes filled with mischief and a bratty confidence that had Bucky’s hands itching to spank your asscheeks raw.

You blew soft, cold air on his swollen shaft and he shuddered at the sensation, more overworked than he’d ever been before. He didn’t know if his cock was still hard or just so swollen from all the stimulation it couldn’t shrink back to its normal, soft state. It seemed encased in a thick layer of rubber numbing it while simultaneously feeling so rubbed raw every nerve ending was exposed. He didn’t know if he wanted more or desperately needed reprieve. Okay, maybe that was a lie. You had insisted he choose a safeword before you started, and he hadn’t once considered saying it out loud, not even now.

A choking sound forced itself from him as you bent down to kiss his shaft, making it rise up to twitch against your lips as you peppered it with light, loving kisses.

“P-please,” Bucky heard himself saying, wrists weakly tugging on his bonds.

You looked up at him with sensual, low-lidded eyes, laying your cheek on his hip and letting a finger slowly trail up and down his sensitive cock. Bucky hissed and shuddered, his reactions wildly out of proportion to the things you were doing. But he couldn’t help it, he was so sensitive.

“What are you begging so sweetly for, baby?” you asked.

Bucky didn’t know, not really. His mind was a melting blurr of sensation and pleasure, and he just knew he needed you, though he couldn’t string together his thoughts to figure out in what way.

“I…I can’t,” he huffed out between great puffs of air as your finger continued to tease and tickle his overstimulated flesh.

You tsked and pouted.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re tapping out already, big boy?” you asked in a sickly sweet, slightly condescending tone. You wrapped your hand around his aching cock and began jerking him, moving the foreskin up and down, the glide easy and wet by the copious amount of slick mixed with his cum still covering it from the way you’d ridden two orgasms out of him in one go.

Bucky moaned, a long, drawn out, desperate thing as he watched your hand helplessly, so fucking hard and so fucking sensitive.

“I want you to give me one more,” you said, soft and slow, watching his face as your hand sped up. Bucky threw his head back and panted at the ceiling, One more? How many had he already given you? Four? Five? He didn’t even know he could cum so much consecutively, but surely he couldn’t come any more now?

Bucky groaned at the ceiling as his body warred between exhaustion and the tension you were slowly and meticulously building in him despite everything, how a tingling sensation began growing in his balls even as his purple, engorged cock-head throbbed in protest.

Was he actually going to come again? He couldn’t believe it, but his body was tensing up, his breath coming out in puffs, the muscles in his thighs bulging. Yes, he could feel it, it was coming, it was within reach.

“God,” he choked out, and you moaned in encouragement, kissing his hip as your hand sped up the tiniest bit.

Bucky whipped his head down to look in disbelief as a splash of cum jettisoned out of his cock to add to the mess on his stomach, his body shuddering violently.

“That’s it,” you breathed with delight, playfully biting his hip as you jerked him through the tiny orgasm, soothing him with your hands up and down his body as you kissed you way up his torso, taking a nipple into your mouth and suckling noisily. You’d both been surprised by how sensitive Bucky’s nipples were, and he still struggled to admit how fucking much he loved it when you played with them, the tingling going straight down to his groin. Bucky shuddered as you bullied the nipple with your tongue and teeth the exact way he used to do to you.

Bucky was still struggling to gather his frayed and scrambled thoughts while his body shivered in the aftershocks of his pleasure, and he heard himself make a sound suspiciously like a whimper as you straddled his waist and laid down on top of him. Bucky relished the heavenly intimacy of your skin on his, of your warmth covering him, and felt himself overwhelmed with emotion as you nuzzled his cheek and wrapped your arms around his neck. He tucked his face into the hollow of your throat, trying to get closer, desperately wanting to wrap his arms around your body. He made the weird whimpering sound again and didn’t even have enough presence of mind to be embarrassed by it. He wanted to kiss you so bad, he needed to feel the comfort and security of your lips.

“P-please…kiss me,” he mumbled into the skin of your neck, eyes closing against the onslaught of churning pleasure of your body on his mingling with his body struggling to cope with the pleasure of his last orgasm.

You pulled back and kissed him immediately, humming soothingly as he hungrily pushed your lips open with his to suck on your tongue. You kissed him again and again, pulling back far too soon and Bucky shamelessly whined in protest, stretching his neck towards you, mindlessly trying to reclaim your mouth.

“You’re being so good, baby, it’s making me so wet,” you mumbled against his lips, and he shuddered and moaned against your mouth, helpless against the visceral reaction he had to you using dirty words. “Wanna see?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, and Bucky gasped in a mix of arousal and trepidation. Yes, he fucking wanted to see, he fucking loved your pussy, loved watching it, loved seeing it messy and sloppy wet. At the same time, he didn’t know if he could stand anymore now, he was too fucking sensitive, too overstimulated, his cock pulsing along with his pulse where it lay still swollen and spent against his stomach.

You didn’t wait for him to answer and Bucky watched, breath speeding up, as you raised yourself up and scooted up to straddle his chest. He could feel the wetness between your legs smear against his abs and he downright growled in frustration. It was too much. He wanted to fucking ruin you. Pulling your knees up, you leaned back with one hand on his thigh and splayed yourself out for him, your pussy so close, and yet just out of reach.

Bucky let out a huffing sound of desperation as he beheld your sopping wet cunt, seeing a tiny trail of his cum still leaking out of you, down over your asshole and pooling on his chest. God it was so fucking hot, and you knew how weak he was against a sight like that, how much he fucking loved to have sweat and cum and spit and slick covering you both. And he knew if he kept watching it, his cock would try and rise again, and he didn’t know if he could survive another attempt at orgasming.

“You see how swollen it is, baby?” you asked, reaching your free hand down and slowly tracing over your pussy lips, circling teasingly around your clit. Bucky licked his lips, imagining he could conjure your sweet, heady taste on his tongue, and nodded, not able to tear his gaze away from his very favorite thing on this earth. “It aches for you baby, it wants you to fuck it again,” you added, watching carefully as Bucky’s mind imploded a little.

“Oh God, doll, I don’t…I can’t… I… please,” he moaned out between labored breaths, not even knowing what he was babbling about, but completely unable to tear his gaze away from your sweet cunt and the way it clenched as you kept toying with your own clit.

“You want to lick it, baby?” you asked.

Oh god, yes he wanted it, but fuck, he knew his cock would get hard again if he did. Well, try at least. You knew it too. Wicked little minx, you were strumming him like a well-tuned fiddle. Still, Bucky nodded mindlessly, desperate for you. You cooed at him, dragging a hand through his hair lovingly and scooted closer to push your cunt into his face, and he moaned long and gratefully as you started to grind on his mouth. “Mmmm, just like that, that feels so good, baby,” you said as you undulated, his tongue flicking your clit the way he knew you liked, his mind buzzing with the fulfilling pleasure of eating you out, of giving you pleasure, of tasting the mix of his own taste with yours on his tongue like the most heady aphrodisiac. His cheeks were flush, feverish both from his exertion but now also from the way your praise made him feel all tingly, floating on a cloud. He felt high, drugged out of his mind on pleasure.

He was faintly aware he was continually moaning into your pussy, eyes half-closed and dazed as you got closer and closer to release, bucking your hips. A hand fisted on his hair and his moan turned to a growl. Yes, yes, yes, he kept chanting in his head as you came in his mouth, your cunt pulsing, drenching his chin in more of your juices. His cock throbbed with his sped-up heartbeat, rigid against his stomach as you came and came and came and all Bucky could think was yes, yes, yes…

Bucky was still buzzing away in a cloud of slowly drifting thoughts of you when he faintly registered your weight lifting off his chest, and then he was promptly brought back to reality when a hand wrapped around his cock. He cried out, blurry eyes looking down to see you between his legs again, holding his slightly hard cock in a gentle grasp. He whimpered openly this time as you lowered your mouth to gently lick the underside of his cock, tenderly but firmly coaxing his overworked cock back to rigid hardness.

“I want one more,” you murmured against the head of his cock before the tip of your tongue gently swiped at his frenulum, and Bucky could only whine low in his throat, completely beyond words, body writhing on the mattress. “You’re so hard, daddy, feels like your cock wants to come again,” you murmured, rising up and gently straddling his hips, fitting his cock between your soggy pussy lips. Your hips started a slow grinding motion and Bucky’s breath started to come out in puffs. He sounded like an angry bull, for christ’s sake, and he melted down into the mattress, eyes glued to the way your cunt slid up and down his cock, teasing and overwhelming him at the same time.

You raised your hips and placed the head of his cock at your entrance, and Bucky watched in trepidation mixed with helpless arousal as you slowly started sinking down on him. His eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth dropped open as his mind blanked out completely from the pleasure

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #prompt #prompt fic

2K notes · View notes